Last Night
by Lillia-Lillia
Summary: It's the last night before the Christmas holidays and fifth year Oliver Wood decides that Percy Weasley needs a little more adventure in his life. Slash. PW/OW. Multi-chapter. Adventures ahead!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: It's the last night before the Christmas holidays and fifth year Oliver Wood decides that Percy Weasley needs a little more adventure in his life. Eventual slash. Multi-chapter.

**A/N**: Rated T for cursing and drinking. I don't own anything HP.

**Last Night**

**Chapter 1**

It was the last night of the term and excitement was thick in the air. High in the Gryffindor common room, a party was in full swing, fueled by the bottles of Ogden's Finest a pair of seventh years had nicked. The prefects were truly doing their best to be lenient given the proximity of Christmas, but one couldn't expect the pompous Percy Weasley to look the other way indefinitely. Poor Percy was having a rough night, especially when his belligerently drunk dorm mate Ignatius Huxley attempted to go to bed with an equally smashed sixth year girl. The staircase to the girl's dorm—unforgiving as ever—spat Huxley down three flights of stairs, whereupon he crashed headlong into two fourth year girls whose only crime was trying to go to bed at the wrong time. In addition to managing their injuries, Percy had to mend an ornate ceramic bust of Godric Gryffindor, who'd met a grizzly end when Huxley and the girls accidentally knocked him to the floor.

"Really now, lads, this is childish," Percy said, his exasperation falling on deaf ears. He'd been bustling around all night, trying to kill the wireless and curb the drinking. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only prefect present with the decency to uphold the rules. Sighing, Percy busied himself with repairing the statue and containing the small floating bonfire of burning parchment that some genius had set up in the center of the room. Percy knew he was being somewhat of a buzzkill, but _someone_ had to be the adult and it might as well be him. He glanced around the common room, shaking his head when he spotted another of his dorm mates, Oliver Wood. Wood was standing on a table, his shirt in a heap on the floor, Gryffindor tie round his head like a bandana. He was juggling what looked like a set of three flaming kiwi fruits, gyrating his hips suggestively to the music to the amusement of several laughing girls before him. Percy rolled his eyes. Wood could be such a blasted show off.

"Oliver, you're so good at handling balls!" Ignatius Huxley shouted from the armchair where Percy had forced him to sit. He was clutching a pressure bandage to the side of his head, one eye slightly out of focus.

"Quiet, you!" Oliver shouted above the gales of laughter that met Huxley's comment. He leapt off the table and wrestled the other boy playfully to the floor. "At least I know how to cast a self-arresting charm when _I_ get thrown down a flight of stairs!"

Percy was about to intervene and pull Wood off Huxley, telling him to mind the head injury when he was distracted by an almighty crash on the other side of the room. Whirling around, Percy saw three girls standing in a triangle around the poor statue of Godric Gryffindor, who was once again lying on the floor in a million pieces.

"_Honestly?_" Percy moaned, dragging a hand exasperatedly through his ginger hair. "I _just_ fixed that!"

"Sor...s…sorry, Weasley," one of the three slurred while her friends dissolved into giggles. "Here, I'll fix it for you, jus' you watch now…" She raised her wand, her aim comically awful due to her drunkenness. A few nearby people stumbled backward to get out of the way. "_Re…re…r…reparo!_" She slurred, missing the statue by several inches. Instead she lit her friend's shoe on fire. "Oh! Oh fuck! Suzy, I'm so sorry!" Roars of laughter filled the common room as the girl attempted to stomp on poor Suzy's foot until Percy put out the blaze with an _aguamenti_ charm.

"Now this has gone far enough!" he shouted, angrily flicking the excess water off his wand. A few people snickered and someone called him a prat, but Percy ignored it. He sighed and looked around the room almost desperately. "At least hide the booze, will you? There's no way McGonagall didn't hear that ruckus."

As if on cue, they heard the telltale _clackity-clack_ of hard-soled shoes marching purposefully down the stone corridor. Instantly, the Gryffindors sprang to life, reattaching the torn wall hangings, righting the upturned furniture, and hastily banishing bottle upon bottle of contraband to a dorm room upstairs. Somebody mended poor Godric while Oliver pulled his shirt on with one hand and hastily added another dressing to Ignatius Huxley's head with the other. A moment later, the portrait hole swung open to reveal a very irate looking Professor McGonagall. She was wearing a midnight blue dressing gown and a scowl. Utter silence met her scandalized gaze as her eyes traveled across the thirty odd poker faces before her. All incriminating evidence had been removed, save for the faint wisps of smoke rising from Suzy's shoe and the subtle stink of old beer still lingering in the air.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on up here?" McGonagall said. She scanned the room until her eyes fell on the one person she could always trust to tell the truth. "_Weasley_?"

Percy, who always fancied himself to be very articulate, was suddenly at a loss for words. "I—er—well, you see professor…" he stammered, gulping audibly as his cheeks and ears flushed crimson.

Suddenly, Oliver Wood appeared at his side and slung and arm around his shoulders like they were old friends. Percy glanced at him in surprise; although he'd always got on fine with Wood over the years, they were never exactly mates, so the random act of comradery caught him off guard.

"Nothing to see here, ma'am," Wood said easily. "We were just enjoying a nice quiet celebration to usher in the Christmas holidays."

McGonagall rounded on him. "_Quiet?_ You call that quiet? I could hear you lot from two floors down! It sounded as though a hippogriff were loose in here!"

"Oh, heh…we're sorry 'bout that, really, we are." Oliver's carefully schooled voice faltered a touch under McGonagall's steely gaze. "We're just excited for the holidays, you see. We promise to keep it down for the rest of the night." The other students, relieved that someone else was doing the talking, nodded earnestly. "I assure you that nothing, and I mean _nothing_, is going on in here that would bring shame to the noble house of Godric Gryffindor." He gave Percy a little shake. "Besides, we have Percy here to keep us in line!"

Her eyes flicked to Percy and back to Oliver. "Is that so, Mr. Wood?" She asked skeptically, cocking one thin brow. "Then why do I smell alcohol and fire?"

"Oh, er…" Oliver said, and Percy winced when the fingers of Wood's hand on his shoulder dug rather painfully into his deltoid.

"We were getting rid of potions ingredients, professor!" Percy suddenly blurted out in a half-shout. The pain of Oliver's grip seemed to help him find his voice.

"Indeed?" McGonagall asked, as several heads whirled to face Percy and snapped back to the professor at whiplash-inducing speeds.

If his classmates were stunned at rule-loving Weasley telling an outright lie, it was nothing compared to the shock and horror Percy felt himself. _Why did you say that? WHY DID YOU SAY THAT! _He screamed at himself internally. He could feel himself start to tremble and cower under McGonagall's stern face. He would surely be in for it now! But then he felt a small squeeze on his shoulder from Oliver—so small it was almost imperceptible—but it was enough to stoke his Gryffindor courage.

"Fluxweed!" He blurted, looking up at McGonagall's sour countenance, well aware that he'd started to sweat. "Yeah, fluxweed and sneezewort. They weren't going to survive the holidays stored improperly so we burned it…"

Nobody else spoke, praying that by some miracle, Percy had said something that would appease the transfiguration mistress. She continued to glower for several long moments, and just as Percy was beginning to panic, his mind cooking up terrifying visions of expulsion, McGonagall gave a curt nod.

"Very well, Weasley. Carry on then. And you lot had better keep the noise down or I swear on Merlin's beard I will take every last house point you've earned this term. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes professor," the Gryffindors said in unison, unable to believe their luck at narrowly escaping their Head of House's wrath.

As she backed out of the portrait hole, McGonagall's gaze lingered on Oliver's hand still gripping Percy's shoulder. Percy could have sworn he saw a tiny smile cross her face before it was once again replaced with a fierce glower, but he was too panicked to know for sure.

No one spoke for a good minute until they were sure McGonagall was gone. Gradually, the talking resumed until they were laughing loudly from relief. A seventh year thumped Percy on the back hard, making him cough. "Mate, that was bloody brill. I've never seen someone pull the wool over old Minnie like that."

"Yeah, maybe you're not such a prat after all, Weasley," said Lucinda Lathrop, a seventh year who sidled between Percy and Oliver. She looked flirtatiously at the Quidditch captain, grabbing his chin between her thumb and forefinger. "But it was your finesse. So what is it, then? You become a Quidditch star and now you can do no wrong?"

Oliver's eyes widened as she tugged his face towards her. His eyes briefly flicked over to Percy, who'd been pushed to the outskirts of the group. "I-I s'ppose not," he managed—rather uncomfortably, Percy noted—before she kissed him lewdly on the mouth to a chorus of loud 'ooohs!' and catcalls from the surrounding Gryffindors.

Percy crossed his arms and looked away. _I'm quite embarrassed for the Lathrop girl, conducting herself like that_, he told himself. When it was safe to look again, he noticed Lathrop smiling smugly at her friends while Wood subtly dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. Percy found that amusing. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Wood looked a touch uncomfortable after that kiss…

But he was torn from his thoughts when a seventh year named Garth Wilder charmed the radio back to life and announced that the party was continuing. Percy, who'd recovered from the shock of Lathrop's mating display, found his voice again. "Uh, fellows, it _is_ getting rather late…perhaps this party shouldn't continue in the common room…"

"Can it, Weasley! You finally stopped acting like a swot for once in your sorry life, playing McGonagall like you did back there. Don't go undoing it all by being a kiss-arse prat!" Wilder shouted, and Percy had to duck on reflex when Wilder snatched something up off a sofa and hurled it roughly at his head.

"Oh _come on_!" Percy shouted when the thing—a nose-biting teacup, apparently—smashed loudly on the wall behind him. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"Really Weasley? Think you're a big man taking house points?" Wilder crossed the distance between them in three strides and gave him a shove. "You really want to play that game?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" One of Wilder's dorm mates stepped up, stopping the fight before Percy could respond. "Weasley here has a point. Let's just continue this party upstairs! The booze is already up there anyways."

Cheers met that suggestion, and Percy slapped a hand to his forehead. "No, no, let's just head to _bed_; we've a big day of travel ahead of us! The train will be in Hogsmeade station in ten hours!" But nobody was listening. The group was already filing its way up the boys' staircase. "Well…try not to wake the younger students at least!" he called after the herd of noisy footsteps. When the last of the stumbling girls had disappeared down the corridor, Percy was left alone in the now ringing silence of the common room. He sank down into the nearest armchair and dropped his face tiredly into his hands. "Ah, screw it all."


	2. Chapter 2

"Oliver? Hey Oliver, you down here?"

A good hour had passed since Ignatius Huxley had seen his best mate, so he'd gone on the hunt, creeping away from the party in the seventh year dorm to search the seemingly vacant common room. He could see little more than shadows as he poked about the circular room, since it was pitch dark save for the handful of embers that remained in the fireplace. It was very quiet, although the distant thumping music of the all-night partiers could still be heard several floors above.

"Yeah, over here mate."

Huxley followed Oliver's voice as he padded across the room. "What are you doing down here—Ow! Fuck!" He didn't see the end table in his path until he'd stumbled into it, and once again, the bust of Godric Gryffindor shattered noisily on the floor. "Someone really needs to glue this blasted thing down!" He drew his wand with a snarl and cast a quick _reparo_. "You alright down here then?" he asked when he finally found Oliver sprawled across a loveseat, his lanky arms and legs hanging over either armrest.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, stretching his arms over his head so his back cracked with a loud _pop_. "Just resting up."

"You should come back upstairs, mate. Garth Wilder taught us this Muggle card game called 'strip poker.' The cards don't do anything interesting, but it's quite fun anyways, and the girls are shit at it. There's a chance you might get to see some tit if you hurry." In the low light of the last dying embers of the fire, Oliver could make out the lusty twinkle in Huxley's eyes.

He chuckled. "You have fun with that, Igg. I think I'm gonna have to pass on the potential tit."

"Passing up titty?" he half-shouted, scandalized. "I feel like I need to reevaluate our friendship!" But he grinned anyway, turning back to the boys' staircase; his body language clearly stating that he didn't want to miss any of the action. "But so long as you're okay, I think I'll head back…"

"Sounds good, mate. I'm off on a nighttime stroll soon anyhow, once the room stops spinning. Oh, and mind that table!"

"Right," Huxley sidestepped just before he bumped the table again. "Cheers, mate." He disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dorm, his bounding footsteps growing fainter and fainter as he spiraled his way up overhead.

Oliver sat up and twisted round in an attempt to stretch out his sore back before bending down to tug on his trainers. As he laced one up, a small calico cat slinked over, nudging her nose into his hand. "Hey Sprinkles," Oliver whispered fondly to the cat. "Ready to go on a little adventure?" But then his normally easy-going kitty suddenly became very tense, and she darted away to hide under a bookcase for safety. "Hey! What the—!"

He turned just in time to see a looming figure shine a bright light in his face. He shielded his eyes with one hand and scurried backwards, nearly tumbling off the loveseat in the process. Unbeknownst to Oliver, Percy Weasley, who'd fallen asleep in an armchair, had woken up to the sound of poor Godric smashing, and now had his lit wand pointing directly in Oliver's face. "You know it's against the rules for a student to wander about the castle at this hour, Wood," Weasley said firmly.

"Merlin's beard, Weasley!" Oliver gasped, pushing the wand out of his face with one hand while clutching his chest with the other. "The hell do you think you're doing, sneaking up on a bloke like that!" He shielded his eyes and squinted up at Percy, whose horn-rimmed glasses made him look something like an owl in the wand light.

Percy watched Oliver close his eyes and draw a few deep, calming breaths. "Not even Quidditch stars are exempt from the rules," he said haughtily.

Oliver sighed irritably, his heart still racing. On a regular day, he might have lost it and started screaming at Weasley, but today, he just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps it was a combination of Christmas, copious alcohol, and the fact that Percy always managed to look dorkishly cute whenever he tried to uphold the rules, but Oliver just didn't have the fight in him. He was still buzzed enough to not dwell on the fact that his brain just linked his redheaded roommate with the word 'cute,' so instead, he started laughing.

"Honestly Weasley? You scared my bollocks off to stop me sneaking out?"

Percy looked downright shocked that Oliver was laughing. "It's—it's against the rules, Wood," he said, drawing himself up pompously.

Oliver considered Percy a moment, wondering vaguely why he never noticed how funny his dorm mate was. "Ah, lighten up, Weasley, you great pillock. Here, sit down, will you? And mind my cat; you've already scared her once." Oliver scooted over, making room on the sofa. For a moment, Percy was almost too shocked to move. He and Wood had never really 'hung out' alone together save for the handful of times over the years that they'd been partnered on class projects. But eventually, he felt his feet shuffle over and he sat. Oliver's calico tentatively stalked over, winding her way around his shins.

"Sorry for scaring you, Sprinkles," he muttered, giving the cat he'd shared a dorm with for years one quick pat on the head.

"She likes you," Oliver said, smiling down at his cat fondly. It was a well-known fact that Oliver had a real soft spot for his pet, and although Percy wasn't much of a feline fan, he knew better than to insult the cat in front of her owner. "See? Maybe you aren't such a prat after all."

Percy scowled, which only made Oliver's grin widen. The redhead wedged his still lit wand between two couch cushions so that they had proper light. "So why are you sneaking off anyway?" Percy blurted, though he mentally chastised himself a moment later for prying.

"Who says I'm sneaking off?"

Percy bit his lip. His roommate would normally never engage him and he wondered vaguely if Wood was doing this just to tease him for it later. But in the end, he decided to throw caution to the wind and press on. "Forgive my crassness, but a certain Miss Lucinda Lathrop was quite clear about—ahem—in which of her bodily orifices she wanted you to place a certain appendage of yours…"

Oliver threw his head back and laughed. "Wow, Weasley, _nice_!" He said, folding his arms behind his head. Rolling his eyes, he continued. "I'm hiding from her, actually. I really want nothing to do with her…ah, 'bodily orifices,' as you so delicately put it."

"Hiding from her?" Percy repeated in disbelief, one ginger eyebrow disappearing into his hairline. "I thought an evening with a lady like her—and I use the term 'lady' _loosely _, mind you—was exactly the sort of thing you wanted."

"Not quite," Oliver said, fixing a dark-eyed gaze on the perfectly postured redhead before him.

"Can I ask why?" Percy asked, watching Oliver in the shadows of the wand light as he absently stroked the calico's ear.

"Let's just say she's not my type," Oliver said with a shrug.

"Why?"

"She just isn't."

Percy thought for a moment. "Did she—ah—have a physical anomaly of sorts?"

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "No. It's not like she was hiding a penis or something up her skirt." He smirked when Percy's ears flushed a violently red.

"Perhaps you were too drunk?" Percy suggested mildly, glancing down at his fingernails.

Oliver snorted. "_Please_. I'm not even drunk."

"Famous last words," Percy teased, feeling suddenly quite bold. "I'm not entirely convinced of that. I did, after all, see you juggling fruit shirtless with a tie round your head. And might I add, your dancing put Lathrop's to shame."

Oliver laughed again, running a hand shyly through his hair. Percy wasn't sure but perhaps there was a faint blush on Oliver's cheeks. "Okay, okay, maybe I was a bit buzzed. What can I say? I like to have fun." He glanced sidelong at Percy. "…You should try it sometime."

Percy chose to ignore that. "I saw you go—what do you call it? 'Shot for shot' with that horrid Wilder boy."

"Nah, after about three, I started banishing each of those shots to the Forbidden Forest," Oliver said, waving his hand dismissively. He glanced out the narrow window beside them where a good deal of snowfall was frosting the black trees of the forest. "Somewhere out there, a very drunk centaur is stumbling about, haphazardly firing arrows off into the night…"

Percy felt his face twitch into a smile, and he was stunned at himself. Here he was, well into the wee hours of the morning, sharing a laugh with Oliver Wood. "Best not tell your mate Huxley about that," he warned solemnly. "He wouldn't even pretend to understand why you'd go and waste perfectly good booze."

Again, Oliver laughed loudly; a happy sound that made Percy's spine tingle. "Merlin, Perce! You're really funny when you're not being a pompous swot!"

Offensive as the comment was, Percy chose to ignore it as well, for Oliver had used both his first name and called him 'mate' in the same breath. He did, however, manage to pull on a haughty face before speaking again. "'Pompous swot,' am I? That's no way to talk to the bloke who bailed you out from McGonagall's wrath."

For being buzzed, Oliver was still quick on his game. "Bailed _me_ out?" He repeated, sitting up straight and feeling quite energized. "I bailed _you_ out first!" He reached out and jabbed Percy playfully in the chest, causing the redhead to look down at the finger and back up with wide eyes. "But in all seriousness," he continued, "what was that crap you spouted to ol' Minnie? Something about fluxweed?"

Percy stared at the burly Quidditch captain, absently rubbing his chest over the sore point where he'd been poked. "That wasn't crap, Oliver," he said, testing out Oliver's given name and gauging him for a reaction. None came and so he continued. "Fluxweed and sneezewort release hydroxyl compounds and smell like alcohol if not properly ventilated."

"What? Really? Who told you that?" He scratched his head in disbelief.

"Arsenius Jigger…"

"Arsenius Jigger?" Oliver repeated, rolling the foreign name around in his mouth until a dark look crossed his face. "Hang on, that's not that barmy bloke in Slytherin with the facial tic, is he? I know you're a prefect and all, but I still wouldn't expect you to be consorting with the enemy…"

A rather pained expression crossed Percy's face. The brief thought crossed his mind that if Oliver wasn't so cute, he would have yelled at him by now for being so thick. That thought shocked him, so he swept it away before he could blush or dwell on it. "Arsenius Jigger…you know, the author of _Magical Drafts and Potions_?" He was met with another blank look, so he added, "our potions textbook?"

"Sorry mate, I don't read," Oliver said with a shrug.

Percy blinked slowly, the happiness he felt at being called 'mate' for a second time overshadowed by the offensiveness that Oliver didn't appreciate reading. "Please, tell me you're joking."

"Well, at least not potions texts, anyways," he said, twisting round to crack his back again. It popped noisily. "Ouch, one of your brothers really nailed me good with a Bludger last week." He stiffly got to his feet, trying to loosen up as Sprinkles gracefully leapt to the floor. "Well," he sighed, looking down at the redhead. "It's been a right pleasure chatting with you. But it's getting late and we best be on our way."

Percy was suddenly torn. Part of him was enjoying Oliver's company so much that he wanted to ask him to stay, while the other, more familiar part of him, wanted to remind his dorm mate not to go wandering in the corridors. But then, Oliver's words finally registered. "Wait…'we'?"

"Indeed," Oliver said with a smirk. He reached out, grabbed Percy by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. Although Oliver was much burlier of the two, both boys were roughly the same height and thus they looked each other in the eye when standing. Percy gulped, hating that he could feel himself blushing madly as Oliver maintained his grip on his arm for a touch longer than was truly necessary. He kept Percy just a hair too close; close enough that the redhead could smell the mint in his shampoo. When Percy felt himself begin to panic, Oliver smiled and released him.

"Ahem," embarrassed, Percy cleared his throat and fiddled with the threadbare sleeve of his jumper. "What…? Ah, what did you mean by 'we'?"

"What I mean," Oliver began, slinging an arm over Percy's shoulders and nudging him towards the portrait hole, "is that _we_ are going on an adventure. Together. And we really must be going, because as you well know, it's getting rather late."

_I really shouldn't be doing this_, a stunned Percy told himself. But nonetheless, he found himself crawling through the portrait hole behind Oliver a moment later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They were lurking in a darkened corridor somewhere around the fourth or fifth floor when it finally dawned on Percy that he'd made a huge mistake. Here he was, a _prefect_ of all things, slinking his way through pitch black hallways with a boy who he'd 'known' for years but didn't really know well enough call a friend. To make matters worse, he was completely turned around. He had no idea how to get back to the safety of Gryffindor tower without getting caught, and furthermore, he had no idea where Oliver was taking him.

When the clanging sound of metal on metal rang out from somewhere down the darkened passageway, Percy held back a scream and nearly jumped out of his skin. He wanted to turn to Oliver and beg him to take him back to the common room; to tell him that he really wasn't up for this 'adventure.' But before, he got the chance, Oliver grabbed him and pinned him against the clammy stone wall. A large hand was clamped firmly over Percy's mouth, while the other held him fast to prevent him from running.

"_Weasley_! Weasley, relax, would you? Just listen to me," he hissed, staring into the redhead's wide, fearful eyes. Oliver felt twin bursts of hot air on his fingers as Percy breathed rapidly through his nose. "It's a suit of armor, Percy, that's all it is, okay? Sometimes they like to whack at each other. It reminds them of their old dueling days, yeah? It's no big deal, alright?" He didn't move his hand until Percy acquiesced with a jerky nod. He watched the redhead visibly tremble for a moment before he took pity on him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Merlin's beard, Percy, you're a bloody prefect, for goodness sake! What's with all this terror of being out after dark? Don't you prefects have to do nighttime rounds, or something?"

With frayed nerves, Percy gathered his courage and continued down the corridor with Oliver, grateful for the comforting hand on his shoulder. "Y-yes," he finally whispered. "We do. But it's different when I'm working and not…not creeping about at risk of getting expelled!"

"You won't get expelled," Oliver waved off impatiently, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder. "Look, we're here already." They turned a corner and paused in front of an Arithmacy classroom, whereupon the Quidditch captain drew his wand and cast an _alohomora_. "Come on, get in."

Suddenly the corridor wasn't looking so bad compared to the ominously silent and terrifyingly dark classroom. But not wanting to be left behind, Percy nervously slipped inside behind Oliver, the door clicking shut behind them with a note of finality. His fingers itched to grab onto the sleeve of Oliver's jumper, but he knew better than to do something like that. Instead, he followed as close behind Oliver as he reasonably could, despite the Quidditch player's repetitive warnings to 'mind his cat.'

"Remind me again why you've brought your cat," Percy whispered, watching as Oliver's calico wove in and out of desk and chair legs, silently flanking her master.

"Because," Oliver said simply, kneeling down in the far corner of the room by the teacher's desk, "Sprinkles is a very smart cat. Here, come check this out." Percy squatted down to watch Oliver draw a rune with his wand over a certain section of the stone floor. "See how this stone here is a slightly different color from the rest?" Percy nodded. "Well, what you do is you scratch out a few Old Norse runes like so…" Percy watched as the pale yellow figures flowing from Oliver's wand seemed to settle into the stone, shimmering like molten lava. "And it should just appear…"

Percy watched expectantly, eyes wide, as the stone vanished, leaving behind the perfectly circular entrance to a seemingly bottomless tunnel about three feet in diameter. The air emanating from the tunnel was cold, and as he stared down into the vast, unknown depths, he felt his stomach flip anxiously. "W-w-what is this?" He stammered, suddenly feeling very unwell. Surely Oliver didn't expect him to crawl into this tunnel! How far down did it go? And where did it lead? And what if Oliver was some kind of bloody psychopath who wanted to take him down there just to kill him and stash his body?

"This," Oliver said proudly, "is a tunnel that my grandfather discovered in his third year at Hogwarts. He told my mum how to access it and she told me. I reckon I'm likely the only person in the school who knows how to work it. I don't think even your brothers or Filch know about it!"

Percy was partly touched and partly terrified that Oliver would share a family secret with him. While the tunnel did scare the wits out of him, the hopeful, expectant look on Oliver's face was enough to convince Percy that his roommate was most likely not a murderer. But still, the thought continued to linger…

Oblivious to Percy's discomfort, Oliver pressed on, whispering excitedly. "It's a direct line from here on the fifth floor to an old storage closet down in the cellar," he explained. "Great for accessing lower parts of the castle, especially if you're coming from Gryffindor tower like we are. It's about this wide the whole way down; except for a bit round the second floor where it gets tight, but as I have no problem squeezing through, you'll be able to do it just fine."

The confirmation that Oliver expected him to drop into that terrifying abyss was enough to make Percy blurt the thought that was lingering on his mind. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Huh? _Kill_ you?" He repeated, his eyebrows knitting together. "The fuck, Weasley," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "No, Percy, I'm trying to take you on an _adventure_ for once in your sorry life. I'm not trying to _kill_ you!"

"Oh, well…that's a relief," Percy said awkwardly. He sat back on his heels and stared down the pit. Unfortunately, however, he lost his balance and bumped a chair, which skidded across the floor with a loud, albeit brief, screech.

Oliver's head shot up. "_Quiet_, Weasley!" He admonished. "You're going to get us caught!"

Both boys froze, unmoving, ears pricked for any sound out of the ordinary. But while Percy was staring intently at the classroom door as if someone was going to burst through it at any moment and expel him, Oliver was closely watching his cat. Sprinkles, who'd been sitting quietly by the lip of the passageway, suddenly began hissing and spitting, her fur standing on end.

"What's wrong with her?" Percy asked as Oliver visibly tensed even more than he already was. Percy's stress level began rising anew, the anxiety in the air so thick and palpable, it was as if it was squeezing him.

Oliver, however, assumed a crouching position akin to that of his cat, as if he was ready to leap into that blasted pit at any second. "We've got company," was all he said.

All sorts of panic alarms were going off in Percy's head. "What—? What d'you mean by—?" But he didn't even have to finish that question, for he could already hear the distant footfalls of someone jogging down the corridor.

"_Get in the tunnel_," Oliver ground out, scooping up his cat, her lamp-like blue eyes flashing; the snarl on her face so fierce she looked more like a snake than a feline.

"_What!_"

"_Now!_"

He didn't have time to think, so instead, he just reacted. Percy found himself dangling his legs over the edge, scooting down into the tunnel and bracing himself with one leg and one forearm on either side of the rough passageway. As he spider-crawled down a few feet, he became acutely aware that if he lost his grip, he would fall five or six stories with nothing to stop him but the unforgiving cellar floor below. It was unlikely he'd be able to pull his wand out in time to cast a self-arresting charm before gravity had him flattened. He was jarred out of his panic-riddled thoughts when Oliver's trainer connected roughly with his forehead. "Ouch!" Percy hissed, scooting down further. He looked up to see Oliver braced similarly except he had his wand out, hastily redrawing the necessary runes to reseal the portal. Sprinkles was balanced calmly on his shoulder as if situations like this were common occurrences for her.

When the stone floor was back in place over their heads, the tunnel was plunged into darkness; terrifying, all-encompassing darkness unlike anything Percy had ever seen before. He was about to panic when Oliver lit his wand tip with a _lumos_, the resulting light so bright that Percy had to take a hand off the wall just to rub at his eyes. When his eyes were adjusted to his companion's pale blue wand light, he saw that Oliver had scooted down so that he was level with Percy, bracing himself with his back against the wall on one side with his feet stretched out in front of him. Since both of his hands were free in this position, he was able to hold his lit wand in one hand while pressing a finger to his lips to indicate silence with the other.

Percy didn't have to be told twice. He remained silent, his eyes darting between the ceiling, the cat, and Oliver; the Quidditch captain looked quite cozy wedged in the passageway despite the fact that solid ground was likely a good hundred and fifty feet below him. Eventually, footsteps grew loud overhead, confirming that someone had definitely entered the Arithmacy classroom. Sprinkles began hissing softly, and Oliver lazily stroked her ear to calm her.

"Where are they, my sweet?" Came the lilting sneer of Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker. "Sniff around, darling. There are students out of bed, and they can't have gone far…"

Percy wanted to throw up knowing that Mr. Filch and Miss Norris were lurking around over their heads. But when he turned his panic-filled eyes to Oliver, he found that the other boy was holding his hand against his mouth to keep from laughing. He caught Percy's eye and gave him an encouraging grin, pointing up to where they could hear Filch grow increasingly frustrated over not making a capture. Eventually Filch gave up, and he and Miss Norris stalked away until his footfalls and mutterings could no longer be heard down in the tunnel.

It was only then that Oliver dared to speak. "Well then," he said, chuckling. "That was a nice rush, don't you think?"

Percy tried to talk a few times but nothing came out, much to Oliver's amusement. Eventually he found his voice. "Are you _mad?_" He exploded, causing Oliver's grin to broaden.

"A bit, yes," he nodded.

"I—oh—well, as long as you're aware then…" Percy said, fumbling over his words. Oliver must have found this endearing because he reached over and ruffled Percy's hair.

"Indeed," he said, sticking his wand behind his ear and clapping his hand together. "Now. Although it's plenty of fun to sit here in this tube with you doing absolutely nothing, you and I still have a lot more adventuring to accomplish tonight." He grinned when Percy visibly paled. "Oh, lighten up, there, Weasley, you great redheaded prat. You're doing marvelously." Though Oliver was ribbing him, and Percy couldn't help but smile at the praise. "Okay, so we have a few options, so listen up. We can either crawl down the tunnel like so," he shifted his body so he was in the same position as Percy with one arm and one leg bracing on either side of the tube. "Or, if you're comfortable with the idea, I can cast a self-arresting charm and lower us to the cellar." He stared at Percy expectantly, the wand light illuminating his eager face. "So which will it be?"

"Erm…" Percy debated the options for a moment. "Which do you recommend?"

"Well, when I was a wee lad, I used to just crawl down. But that gets tiring and I stopped once I perfected the self-arresting charm Besides, in my old age, I prefer to just use magic," Oliver replied, and Percy snorted at the idea of a fifth year referring to himself as 'old.'

"Let's do the charm, then," Percy said. His arms were getting a little tired and he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it if he shimmied the whole way down.

"Very well," Oliver said, turning with great difficulty in the narrow space so that his back was to Percy. "Climb onto my back, will you?"

"_What?_" Percy gasped.

"Grab onto my back!" He repeated. "C'mon, it'll be fun. I swear it."

Percy would have argued if that hadn't been such a tempting request, so instead he shifted until he was balanced only on his feet, one arm wrapped around Oliver's neck, the other round his middle. He was well aware that his palms had begun to sweat, but he convinced himself it was due to the impending free-fall he was about to take. It was _not_ because of the warmth radiating from Oliver's back or the fact that he smelled so good. Sprinkles, who was still anchored to Oliver's shoulder, was staring at Percy as if she knew better.

"Alright mate, you ready?" Oliver asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, tightening his grip around the other boy.

"Okay! Here comes the good part. One, two, three, _jump_!" Percy gripped his knees tightly around Oliver's hips as the brunette let them drop. Suddenly, they were plummeting down the dark tunnel, cold wind whizzing past their ears. It was a far enough drop that their brains definitely had time to register that they were not only falling but _still_ falling, and before long, Percy was screaming in Oliver's ear while the other boy laughed wildly from the thrill. Oliver had one arm wrapped protectively around his kitty while the other aimed his wand straight down. "_Arresto momentum!_" He shouted, and Percy, who still clung to his roommate in a death grip, only managed to crack one eye open when he felt their descent slow.

"H-hey," Percy sputtered when he realized they were little more than floating to the earth. "Th-this _is_ rather fun!"

"Told you!" His companion shouted, his excited voice reverberating through the tube.

Moments later, Oliver's feet landed on solid ground and Percy slid off his back. Lighting the tip of his own wand, Percy surveyed his new surroundings to find that the three foot wide vertical tunnel had ended in an even tighter stone room. It would have been very claustrophobic if Oliver hadn't immediately begun drawing more runes on the wall in front of him. When the portal opened—an even narrower gap round their feet—Percy knelt down to crawl through, but Oliver held up a hand to stop him.

"Sprinkles will tell us if the coast is clear," he breathed.

Percy wanted to question how a feline could transmit such a message as he watched Sprinkles slink through the exit, her belly low to the ground and her tail swishing. He was never a big fan of cats, what with their oddities, nervousness and bizarre little mannerisms. Oliver's cat was no exception. She was as weird as they came, but Oliver loved her so. She was part of the reason that Percy and Oliver never became very good friends, as Percy could never bring himself to agree that Sprinkles was as special a cat as Oliver spun her to be. But when the calico returned a short while later, staring up at her master mewling softly, Percy was beginning to wonder if he should reconsider. It seemed as if the cat had indeed just swept the corridor for them!

They followed Sprinkles through the tiny door into what looked like a dimly lit and rarely used supply alcove. Oliver peeked around the wall before leading them into a damp cellar corridor.

"Oliver?" Percy queried after a bit.

"Hmm?" The Quidditch captain whispered as they padded down several meandering hallways.

"Mind telling me where we are going?" His sense of direction was never the best, but something told him they were heading away from the kitchens, the only room in the cellar he'd ever visited.

"I've told you," Oliver said cheekily. "We're going on an adventure."

"Well yes, but where specifically?"

Oliver led them down one last corridor to a small atrium that Percy had never seen before. It was at least twice as wide as the regular cellar hallways with a ceiling three times as high. But the most fascinating part was the several gigantic ancient tapestries lining the walls from floor to ceiling, each depicting a famous scene from wizarding history. There was the first International Warlock Convention on one side of the room, a reproduction of the founding of Hogwarts across from it, a graphic rendition of witch burnings on his immediate left, and perhaps the most spectacular of all; the slaying of the giant Hengist of Upper Barnton on the right.

"Wowww," Percy breathed, his eyes widening to take it all in. He stood back a pace, craning his neck to see the artwork in its entirety. "Oliver? What _is_ all this? What is this room?" When he turned around expecting to find the other boy right behind him, he was surprised to find him still lingering in the doorway. "Oliver?"

"Weasley, do you trust me?"

"Trust you?" Something didn't feel right about that question, and that fact that he was back to using surnames only made Percy that much more uncomfortable. "Oliver, what are you on about—!"

But he never got to finish the question, as a pair of hands came out of nowhere and wrapped around his arm. He would have screamed if it weren't for the hand that had pressed itself over his mouth. Terror flooded Percy worse than it had the moment Oliver had materialized that damned tunnel. But the worst thing, Percy noted as he was dragged kicking and struggling behind one of the tapestries, was that the whole time, his roommate Oliver Wood stood there in the doorway laughing.

And never once did he make a single move to help.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks so much to those of you who've read, reviewed, or are just simply enjoying the story. I love hearing from you. ~Lilly


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When Percy finally wrenched an arm free, he made for his wand, only to find that someone had already taken it. He felt truly vulnerable, as he was dragged roughly behind a tapestry while his companion Oliver Wood did nothing to stop it. His captor flung him unceremoniously backwards and his legs connected with a table, causing him to tumble over. Though the ground was a lot softer than what he'd been expecting, the fall still bloody _hurt_. Stiffly, he pushed himself up onto his forearm. As he felt someone crouch down behind him, Percy drew his free hand into a fist, preparing to defend himself the Muggle way if worse came to worst.

When he turned to face his aggressor, he was naturally stunned to find himself looking into the smiling face of the boy who, for his entire life, had grown up on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. "Cedric Diggory?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sorry to do that to you, mate," said the handsome Hufflepuff fourth year, handing him back his glasses which had gone flying in the scuffle. "Just a bit of friendly hazing, is all, I swear by it. I honestly didn't expect _you_ when Sprinkles told us Oliver was bringing a friend."

Again, as he pulled his sore body into a sitting position, Percy found himself pondering the mysterious ways of Oliver's creepy calico. Not only did she help her master slink through the school undetected, she evidently could hold conversations with the likes of Cedric Diggory. But as this was neither the time nor the place for such musings about cats, he shifted his gaze to his supposed companion. Oliver, who'd allowed Percy to get assaulted all in the name of an 'adventure,' had knelt on the plush, blood-red carpet beside the ruffled ginger.

"Honestly, Wood? _Honestly_? What is the meaning of all this?" he spluttered, gesturing wildly at their surroundings. Light from dozens of red tapers in a hovering crystal chandelier illuminated the cozy nook hidden behind the tapestry. Two old loveseats and a chair were crammed around a spindly table, which now had a broken leg from where Percy flipped over it. "What _is_ this blasted place, Wood? And where did all this—this _furniture _come from? Nicked, I suppose?"

Oliver didn't appear the least bit stunned by Percy's outburst. He grinned and hooked his arms beneath the redhead's armpits, hauling him easily to his feet as though he weighed nothing. "Ah, loosen up there, Percy, you great tight-arse!" he teased good-naturedly. The miffed prefect huffed, but this only further amused Oliver. "You look cute when you're in a snit. Anyone ever tell you that?" He asked fondly, dropping a heavy hand on Percy's head and mussing up his hair.

Percy's mouth fell open and he could feel the blush rise in his cheeks. He glanced around at Diggory, who had the good grace to pretend like he hadn't heard or seen a thing. Instead, he became overly interested in repairing the broken table leg. Part of Percy's brain told him to shove Oliver's hand off. It was, after all, Oliver's fault that he'd been jumped and smashed into a table in the first place. However, the less rational part of his brain determined Oliver's large paw tangled up in his curls just felt too damned good, and since he was a sucker for having his hair played with, he couldn't summon the strength to push him off.

But then he heard a scoff as someone stepped around the tapestry, and that snapped Percy out of it. "I am _not_ 'in a snit'!" He said petulantly, finally pushing Oliver's hand away. He glanced around for the source of the derisive sound, his eyes falling on Amelie Bates, a Hufflepuff who'd been Oliver's friend and partner in Herbology all term. She was leaning against the wall, twirling Percy's wand idly between her fingers, the other hand on her hip, her jaw set stubbornly.

"Funny. That's exactly the sort of thing a person in a snit would say," she said, a mean little grin spreading across her wide, dark face.

Percy had never before had a bad word with Amelie Bates, but he wasn't about to let her start sassing him now. He was a prefect for Merlin's sake! He drew himself up to his full height, strode across the narrow room in two steps and held out a hand to her. "I'll have that back, now, Bates," he said, nodding to his wand.

"Or what?" She shot back.

"Or I'll have you in detention every night for a week when we return from the holidays!"

She rolled her eyes, scoffed, and held out the wand, but when he made to take it, she pulled it back out of reach in the last second. His fruitless swipe at the air caused her to cackle gleefully.

"C'mon, Amelie, give it back to him," said Cedric Diggory lazily. He'd moved to a green couch on one side of the room that clashed horribly with the rug. His eyes were downcast, and he was pulling a small glass jar out from a hole in one of the cushions.

She grumbled harshly but handed the wand back in the end. Percy snatched it lest she try to pull it away again.

"Bringing Weasley here was a bad idea, mate," she said to Oliver, stepping over Diggory to fling herself into the lone wooden chair on the far side of the alcove. "Sorry Oliver, you know I pride you on your natural intuition, but this was really poor decision making on your part." She jutted her chin stubbornly at Percy. "_He's_ going to get us expelled."

"Oh, he will not," Oliver insisted, waving away her concern. He took Percy by the elbow and pushed him onto the small blue couch opposite Diggory. "Will you, Perce?

Percy wasn't entirely convinced of that. Detentions, at the very least, seemed in order for everyone. But the hopeful, open expression on Oliver's face made him bite his tongue. The keeper had seated himself so close to Percy that their thighs were nearly touching, the proximity making Percy's skin feel electric. He wasn't sure of where his sudden loyalty to his athletic housemate came from, but instead of telling him off, he smiled and said, "No, of course not."

Oliver let out a whoop of glee and gripped Percy amicably by the back of the neck. "Excellent! You see Bates? Nothing to worry about!" He gave Percy a proud little shake.

But Amelie Bates looked murderous. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers at the two Gryffindors. "I didn't even know you two were friends," she challenged.

"We're not," Percy said, massaging his neck. Oliver's face fell momentarily, and he pulled his hand away from the redhead. Catching the flicker of hurt on the Quidditch captain's face, Percy quickly backpedalled. "Er—what I mean is, uh, we're _becoming_ better friends. Like…uh, today, for instance." And that wasn't a lie. Images of floating down a wide, bottomless tunnel while he clung to Oliver's powerful back swam before his eyes, causing a pleasant feeling to bubble up in his chest. "We've done several…er…fun things together already."

This seemed to appease Oliver because he smiled and nodded, but Amelie didn't look so sure. "I thought you were going to bring Huxley, Oliver. Sprinkles distinctly said you were bringing a friend_, _and _this_," she jerked her head at Percy so hard that a few black curls sprang loose from the orange kerchief round her head, "is no friend."

"I'm afraid that's my doing," Cedric told her without looking up. He'd taken a small plant from the glass jar and was now carefully trimming it over a square of scrap parchment. "I told him not to bring Huxley."

Now it was Percy's turn to feel hurt, but he set his face stoically before anyone, namely Oliver, could notice. Of course it made sense that he wouldn't have been Oliver's first choice for a companion. Percy was well aware that he could be rather uptight and a killjoy—his brothers reminded him of this daily—but it still stung. A part of him really liked believing that Oliver truly wanted him along for the company.

Oliver shrugged, seemingly oblivious to Percy's internal pain. "You didn't have to tell me twice. Iggy's a great guy and all, but he's a right dolt." He reached his hand under the seat of the blue couch and pulled out a bizarre glass apparatus, which he set on the table beside Cedric's meticulously shredded plant. "Besides, this is going to be _way_ more fun with Percy than it ever could be with Huxley."

Though Percy was immediately curious and suspicious about both the glass device and the mysterious plant, Oliver's words made him feel like he was floating on a cloud. Suddenly, he felt very wanted; a nice feeling that Percy rarely experienced. He grinned broadly and forced himself to store away those kind words to reflect upon later when he had some privacy.

Amelie sighed, consenting, though her sharp eyes still shone with mistrust. "Well, if you're sure, then…"

"I am," Oliver smiled, patting Percy on the knee. Percy straightened up at the contact, Oliver's touch sending tingly jolts of pleasure down his spine. Amelie watched the interaction intently, and she must have suspected something because her calculating black eyes narrowed.

"Fine then," she said as Cedric gathered up the square of parchment, tipping the plant into the small depression in the glass apparatus. "Please forgive my suspicions, Weasley. As our esteemed guest, I think I speak for all of us when I say we would be _honored_ if you took the first hit." She took the glass from Cedric and placed it in Percy's hand.

The redhead stared down at it, clueless. "Er…" He said, a blush rising on his cheeks. Amelie was watching him expectantly, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it. The plant didn't even look like anything he'd ever seen in _1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_. The smell, however, was distantly reminiscent of the skunk that had once sprayed his brother Bill when he was de-gnoming the garden.

The Hufflepuff girl rolled her eyes. "_Please_, tell me you've smoked a bowl before."

"Smoked a _what_?" He repeated.

"Smoked a bowl," she said impatiently. "You know, cannabis. Pot. Grass. Reefer. Weed. Maryjane…No? Nothing's ringing a bell?"

Percy averted his eyes, feeling quite foolish. Oliver, he decided, was probably kicking himself for not ditching him in the common room when he'd had the chance. Percy had no idea what Amelie was talking about, and he wondered vaguely if this was some kind of Muggle thing, and if so, why his father—who knew everything there was to know about Muggles—hadn't shared it with him.

"Easy there, Amelie, play nice." Oliver chastised gently, pulling Percy out of his brief reverie. "Surely you can't expect him to know what to do with it if he's never even seen it before?"

"Of course he's never seen it," she said derisively, slumping in her seat and dangling a leg over the armrest. "He's nothing but a swot."

Hackles raised, Percy was ready to retort, or at the very least dock Hufflepuff a few points when he felt Oliver's hand atop his own. He almost spluttered at the absurd idea of Oliver holding his hand until he realized his roommate was merely trying to take the glass instrument from him. Embarrassed, he passed it over.

"This, Perce, is a bowl," he held up the small glass piece. "It's a pipe of sorts for smoking marijuana."

"Smoke it? But why?" Percy had spent eleven years under the great homemaker Molly Weasley and four and a half years as a Herbology student, and he could only count a handful of occasions during which he'd seen a plant smoked to release its magical properties.

"To get high, of course."

The phrase reminded Percy of something one great uncle or another of his had told him not to do, for in some parts of the world, it was quite illegal. The idea of rule-breaking on a near criminal level was too much for Percy. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the small pipe clasped in Oliver's large fingers. "Isn't…isn't it criminal?" He asked, hating how his voice sounded small and fearful.

Cedric smirked. "In the Muggle world, maybe. Here, we have much riskier forms of law-breaking. The use of Unforgivable Curses, coercion by love potion, harbouring dragons, unlawful possession of unicorn blood—to name a few—are crimes much more fit for Ministry investigation than having a little vial of what even Muggles consider to be an innocent drug."

Percy shook his head. _This is an awful idea and you're better than this_, he chastised himself internally, but the thought didn't stop him from asking, "So, how does it work?"

"Good lad," Oliver said with a curt nod, as if he'd been privy to Percy's conversation with his own conscience. "Just watch me closely."

Percy, who normally had no difficulties paying attention, suddenly found himself very distracted by the oddly erotic display of Oliver putting his lips on the mouthpiece. Oliver mentioned something about where to put his finger before burning the plant with the flaming tip of his wand, but Percy wasn't listening. As he watched Oliver inhale deeply, hold it, and sensuously exhale a stream of smoke, Percy felt himself blush, for his 'little friend' had definitely and unmistakably twitched in response to such a wonderful sight.

"Think you got all that?" Amelie asked, grinning infuriatingly as Oliver pressed the bowl back into his hands.

"Yes, yes, of course…" He said distractedly as he held the pipe to his mouth. His member had noted that his mouth was now exactly where Oliver's had just been—meaning this was akin to kissing, of course—and as such, the tightness in his jeans had grown quite uncomfortable. Percy was mortified, praying that nobody would notice his state. He'd never really felt this turned on by anyone before, least of all another _boy_ of all people, and he wasn't really sure how he should feel about it all.

"Here, let me light it for you," Oliver said indulgently, clearly amused that Percy, the great know-it-all that he was, knew absolutely nothing about pot smoking.

He lit the tip and Percy inhaled, and that's when all hell broke loose.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks Fire the Canon for inspiring my girl Amelie.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: This chapter took me ages to edit to a point where I'm happy with it. Thanks for the support of everyone who's followed along this far!

**Chapter 5**

_He lit the tip and Percy inhaled, and that's when all hell broke loose._

Suddenly, his insides were on fire. He gasped for breath, desperately trying to draw oxygen into his scorched airway. Eyes watering, he slammed a hand down hard on the old blue sofa. "'M dying!" he managed to scratch out.

Through his panic, he almost missed Oliver pushing a goblet into his hands. "You're not dying. Just drink this; _aguamenti_."

Gratefully, Percy downed the water, and his throat was soothed. Feeling quite drained, he didn't protest when Amelie leaned over him to take the bowl. "Next time don't breathe in so hard," she advised.

Warily, Percy watched the bowl go round the circle. When it was his turn again, he was cautious and managed to spare his trachea another torching. As time went on, he couldn't remember how many times he'd hit the silly little pipe, but then again, he didn't much care. A vague, comforting sense of euphoria had washed over him, and Percy's foggy mind was at ease. He stroked his fingers against the ribbed couch cushion for several minutes, fascinated by how soft it was. He needed to share this revelation with someone, so he turned to Oliver. But the the other boy was busy talking animatedly with the Hufflepuffs and strangely, Percy couldn't keep up with their conversation.

A glazed expression crossed the ginger's face as he looked his roommate over. How had he never before noticed how handsome Oliver was? A niggling part of his conscience told him he probably shouldn't be checking out other boys, but that voice was easily silenced as he took in Oliver's firm, masculine jaw, button nose, and large, deep-set eyes. He watched Oliver's hands—his big and powerful hands—and he gulped audibly, imagining those hands roving across his body. He wondered what those chapped, pouty lips would feel like against his own. His eyes raked over Oliver's well-toned body, concealed by a form-fitting jumper. Percy's mouth watered at the thought of running his tongue over the smooth skin and taut muscles that doubtlessly lay below it.

"Percy? ...Oi! Percy!" Amelie Bates' loud voice snapped him out of his fantasy and it took quite a bit of will power to tear his eyes off Oliver.

"Huh? What?" he muttered, annoyed. She was sharing the green sofa with Diggory now, and they were holding hands. Their intertwined fingers of alternating black and white skin looked like the keys of a piano. Percy smiled vaguely. It was rather beautiful, really.

"_PERCY_!" she bit out. "Focus!"

"Huh?" He lifted his gaze from their hands to her eyes. "_What_?"

"Why were you eye-fucking Wood over there?" she asked bluntly.

He blanched at the use of such coarse language, his face and neck heating in a furious blush. "I _beg_ your pardon!" He drew himself up into the most dignified posture he could muster. "I—I did no such thing!"

"Hmm, I'm quite sure you did, actually," she teased, her eyes darting between the two Gryffindors.

"Well then you're _clearly_ mad," Percy shot back lamely, stealing a glance at Oliver, who was blessedly looking elsewhere.

Awkwardly, Diggory cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject. "So Percy! How's the weed working? Enjoying your first high, are you?" he asked loudly.

The redhead looked round at him. "Who _me_? …No, no, I'm not high at all."

"This fool doesn't even know he's high," Amelie muttered, shaking her head in disgust.

"Well…he knows he wants you to shut the hell up," Percy said without missing a beat.

"_Percy!_" said Oliver. "Sorry Amelie, I think the weed has broken his filter…"

"So it seems," she said. Percy's focus had wandered. He was staring at the hovering chandelier, completely mesmerized by the thin wisps of smoke rising from the tapers. "It's funny. You get this little Kiss-Arse blazed, and suddenly he springs a backbone. You were right, Ollie. He is _way_ more entertaining than Huxley could ever be."

"Aye," Oliver agreed. "I am never wrong. You best not forget that."

"Huxley's given name is my middle name!" Percy blurted suddenly, his eyes still fixed on the chandelier. The flames cast an owlish shadow from his glasses on his pale face.

"That's very interesting, Perce," Oliver said with an amused chuckle, patting him on the knee. He grinned devilishly, knowing his touch would drive the stoned redhead wild. Sure enough, Percy tensed at the contact and blushed. Oliver even felt his own pulse speed up, as watching his roommate squirm was far more erotic than he cared to admit. His eyes flicked from the redhead's cute face down to his trousers, where he was sporting a very obvious bulge.

"What are you looking at, there Wood?" Amelie asked innocently, cleaning out the bowl with her wand.

"What? Nothing!" He quickly withdrew his hand from Percy's knee, and much to his chagrin, his own face heated up. "You…eh…you like watching the fire, Perce?" he asked in a lame attempt to change the subject.

"Uh-huh," Percy managed, his palms sweating.

The odd tension between the two Gryffindors rose overtly until Amelie slammed her hand down on the table, causing Oliver and Percy to jump. "Oh for goodness sake! Why don't you just suck his cock already?"

"Merlin's balls, Amelie!" Diggory moaned, dropping his face in his hands.

She stood up angrily, stowing the empty bowl back under a couch cushion and the glass jar in a fold of her garish skirt.

"I can't take it anymore!" she snapped. "We've got _this_ one over here pining over _that_ one all evening," she pointed an accusing finger at Percy first and then at Oliver. "And then in turn, _that_ one starts feeling _this_ one up! Honestly, Wood! In public? You've got to do that in _public_?"

"Hey!" Oliver barked sternly, ignoring Percy's look of mortification to fix Amelie with a lidded, red-eyed stare. "I'd hardly call this 'public'…"

"It's public enough!" she retorted, pulling Cedric along. "Come on Ced, let's leave these two stoners alone so they can be weird in privacy, yeah?"

"Have a good holiday!" Cedric managed before he was dragged behind the tapestry. As their voices grew fainter, they heard him say to Amelie, "Hey, at least Wood is interested in something other than Quidditch for once…"

A ringing silence filled the nook once they'd gone and Percy felt extremely embarrassed. He tried to avoid eye contact with Oliver, but that was difficult since the other boy was staring intently at him. Finally, just to break the tension, he peeked at Oliver and said, "I'm not a stoner…"

Oliver grinned, nudging Percy's arm, trying to loosen him up. "Of course you aren't, Perce."

Percy folded his arms stubbornly. "That—that girl is an absolute _bint_!"

"_Percy! Wow!_" Oliver snorted, covering his mouth with his fist to hide his grin. "Don't mind her, really," he said once the shock wore off. "She's actually quite funny once you get used to her particular brand of humour."

"I suppose you could make the same argument for Snape," Percy grumbled.

"Yes, I suppose you could," Oliver agreed, laughing again. But then he leaned towards Percy, his tone and demeanor becoming suddenly serious. "But we can't dwell on senses of humour all night. There's a very important question I need you to answer."

"Me?" Percy's foggy mind became distracted and his curiosity was instantly piqued. Suddenly he forgot to be mad at Amelie. He even forgot his embarrassment. Instead, he mirrored Oliver's stance, leaning toward him conspiratorially. "And what sort of question is that?"

"The question is…Are you hungry?"

"Oh…" Percy pondered that for a moment. "You know something? As a matter of fact, I am!" He hadn't noticed it before, but suddenly, he was starving.

Oliver snorted. "Of course you are." Getting to his feet, he snapped his fingers and Sprinkles appeared from whichever dark corner she'd been lurking in. She stood at attention as Oliver extinguished the tapers with a _nox_. As the room plunged into complete darkness, Percy shuffled subconsciously closer to his roommate. "So what type of food could you go for?" Oliver whispered as they snuck into the corridor behind the cat.

"Dessert." Percy answered without missing a beat.

"Ah," he said in mock-seriousness, glancing sidelong at his companion. "But you're definitely not high, though, right?"

Unable to read the sarcasm, Percy shook his head resolutely. "No, absolutely not. I'm just…so _unbelievably_ hungry, I could clean out Honeydukes right now. Really, I could." His eyes flashed wistfully at the thought.

Oliver chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'm sure you could. Just keep your voice down, will you? You'll have Filch on our trail in no time."

Percy stiffened at the mention of Filch. An unexpected and highly acute wave of paranoia washed over him as he imagined a week's worth of sadistic detentions with the caretaker. "Oh bloody hell. We need to go back to the tower! It's late and we'll be caught and we'll be expelled and—!"

"Percy, _enough_!" Oliver hissed, stopping short and silencing him with a hand over the mouth. "Look! No need to go back to the tower; we're at our destination already."

They were in front of a handsome painting of a fruit basket, but Percy was far too nervous to watch what Oliver was doing. But it didn't matter because a doorknob appeared right where the pear had been, and a moment later, they were stepping into the Hogwarts kitchens.

As he entered the cavernous, high-ceilinged room proportioned exactly like the Great Hall above, Percy's mouth dropped open in shock. He was neither stunned by the veritable legion of house elves milling about, nor by the mountains of brass cookware along the walls, nor the gigantic brick oven. What got Percy into a tizzy was seeing his twin brothers accepting several dusty bottles of booze from a group of house elves.

"Fred and George Weasley!" He barked, all traces of hunger and paranoia forgotten. He marched over, throwing out his chest and assuming his most authoritative prefect voice. "Just what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? You are _thirteen _years old! What makes you think you have permission to get drunk! You put those bottles back _this instant!_"

The twins watched him approach, grinning bewilderedly as if they couldn't believe their eyes. "Well hello there, big brother!" George said warmly, shrinking and pocketing another bottle. "Pleasure to see you here this fine evening, and—bloody hell!" His mouth dropped open in disbelief as he looked Percy over. "_Are you_ _high_?"

"What—_no_! Why does everyone keep asking that!"

Fred's face cracked into a wickedly impish grin. "That's because you _are _high! Oh Merlin, this is brilliant!" He rubbed at his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "Merlin, Oliver! Just what have you done to my dear, sweet, darling little Ickle Percykins?"

Coming up behind Percy, Oliver held up his hands innocently. "Hey, it's not _my _fault he kept hitting the bowl…"

"Oh hell, this is fantastic," George cackled. He gave his older brother an appreciative shake. "Just look at you! All disheveled with your eyes redder than your hair—"

"That's enough!" Percy interjected, running his hands through his curls subconsciously. "I am _not_ high! And you lot best get to bed—and leave those bottles where you found them!—before I report you to McGonagall, or worse, to mum! Do you honestly think you're so far above the rules?"

"Well…yes, actually," Fred said, tapping a finger pensively on his lip. "But you're not exactly in a position to make demands, dear brother."

"Now you listen here—"

"Inded," George agreed sagely, cutting across him. "After all, those who play on glass pitches shouldn't hit Bludgers."

"_What_?"

George smiled. "Well, you see, you and the Quidditch swot over here—"

"Watch it," Oliver rumbled.

"—are equally guilty of prowling about after hours. _And_ you're more baked than mum's Christmas cobbler."

"So here's what we'll do," said Fred. "You'll keep your pie-hole shut about seeing _us_ down here, and in turn, we'll can it about seeing _you_. You got that?" He smiled sweetly and slung an arm around Percy's neck. Knowing a dead end when he saw one, the prefect grudgingly nodded.

"Excellent!" the twins said in unison, faces cracked into identical grins.

"Well," George said, "we best be on our way then. Cheerio!"

"And thanks for babysitting him, Oliver," Fred added, clapping his captain on the shoulder as he passed him. "You're a bloody saint, you know that?"

Oliver inclined his head, barely able to contain his laughter. "Yes, I know. I'll be signing autographs later." He had to ignore the withering gaze Percy shot his way.

"We'll see you next year, Woody!" Fred called cheerfully, and the twins were gone.

Petulantly, Percy threw himself down onto the kitchen's counterpart to the Gryffindor table. He grumbled, drawing his legs up and resting his chin in his hands. He hated when the twins outsmarted him, but even more so, he was annoyed with himself for acting so childish. It was so far from the dignified image he wished to project and he was embarrassed that his new mate Oliver—_Was he really a mate?_—got to witness it.

While Percy stewed angrily, Oliver took the time to place a request with one of the house elves. Eager to please, the little fellow bustled around, and once Oliver had what he wanted, he sidled over to Percy and sat beside him.

"Cheer up there, Percy, you great lug," he teased, nudging the skinny redhead with his elbow. "Look, I've brought you a treat…"

In spite of himself, Percy looked up curiously, but wrinkled his nose at the tin Oliver was brandishing in front of his face. "_Tuna fish_? Blegh, Oliver, that's disgusting!"

"Huh? Oh, heh, that's for Sprinkles, my apologies." He set the tin down on the tabletop and the calico prowled over. Percy watched her eat; a slightly offended look gracing his features. For such a stately cat, Sprinkles ate like a slob, slamming her whole face into the tin and wolfing it down. Percy rolled his eyes. He was about to make a comment about the cat's lack of table manners, but Oliver spoke first. "_This_ one's for you, Perce."

Percy's foul mood evaporated as soon as he laid eyes on the fresh cauldron cake in Oliver's hand. "Oh Merlin," he sighed in ecstasy, hunger returning full force as he picked it up gingerly and took a bite. "Cauldron cake's ma fav'rite. How'd 'ou know?"

Oliver was stunned a moment, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that prim and proper Percy Weasley was talking through a mouthful of food—something he'd never seen in four and a half years of knowing the lad—or because the ginger in question was languidly licking acid green frosting off his finger. "It was a lucky guess," he managed.

Completely lost in his dessert, Percy ate with a far-away look in his eyes. A few quiet minutes passed before he spoke again, as he was having a difficult time selecting the right words. "Oliver?" he said finally.

'Yeesssss…?"

Percy took a deep breath, staring down at his last bite of cake. "I don't normally like to use superlatives, but this…this was _the best_ cauldron cake I have ever tasted." A flicker of sadness shone in his eye as he polished it off.

Oliver laughed, nodding sagely. "When you're stoned, Percy, _every_ cauldron cake becomes the best cauldron cake."

"But I'm not stoned," Percy argued, wrinkling his nose at the word. Full and content, he lay down on the hard table top. "I'm really not." Sprinkles sat a few feet away from his head, and he watched her upside-down as she licked her chops ferociously, savouring every last morsel of tuna. "You cat's really weird. Did you know?" he blurted suddenly.

"What did you say?" Oliver barked, his voice the same gravely tone he used when shouting plays to his Quidditch team. "Insulting my cat, are you? Those are fighting words, Weasley, you know that?" He drew himself onto his knees beside Percy, his eyes glinting as he prodded the smaller boy in the stomach.

"Hey!" Percy flinched in surprise, crossing his arms protectively over his belly. He had half a mind to feel nervous—Oliver was much bigger than he was, after all—until he saw the playful look on his housemate's face. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he cried.

"Teaching you a lesson!" Oliver crowed, prodding Percy in the side, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Can't have you insulting my cat, now, can I?"

"H-hey!" Percy panted, edging away from another poke to his belly. "Stop that!" His blue-grey eyes flashed as he sat, tensed and grinning with his hands at the ready, waiting for the keeper's next attack.

"Never! Not until you apologize to me cat!" And with that, Percy dissolved into a fit of the most undignified giggles as Oliver dove at him, assaulting him with relentless tickles and pokes to his sides and belly. Howling with laughter, Percy batted futilely at Oliver's hands before scooting backwards across the table. "Hey! Just where do you think you're going?" the keeper roared, and Percy laughed, all dignity forgotten and completely beside himself as he tried in vain to escape. "I don't think so! You owe my girl an apology!" Strong hands grabbed Percy by the hips and slid him easily back to the edge of the table.

"N-n-never!" Percy gasped, flailing about with tears of laughter leaking from his eyes as Oliver's warm fingers tickled his neck.

"Oh, is that how you'd like to play?" Oliver cried, his manic eyes flashing happily. He'd somehow managed to sit on Percy's legs and pin one shoulder to the hard tabletop with a hand, leaving the other free to torture the squirming redhead. "You'll be regretting those words soon, laddie!" he promised, tickling every inch of Percy he could reach; from his neck to his chest to his sides.

Percy managed to snag Oliver's hand briefly and hold his fingers at bay, but the larger boy broke out of his grasp and continued the attack. Finally, unable to take any more, Percy curled up as best he could and yelled, "Please! Please! For the love of Merlin, stop!"

"Not until you apologize!"

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! Sprinkles isn't weird!"

Mercifully, Oliver took his hands away, sitting back triumphantly on his heels. "There's a good lad, Percy," he said, nodding his head. Percy stayed on his back, laughing weakly and panting for breath, his glasses askew on his nose and red curls flopping in his eyes. Oliver let him recover for a moment before reaching down and helping him into a sitting position. "Alright, up you get, there, Killer!"

His head slightly addled from the quick position change, Percy felt himself blush. He realized, with a small pang of embarrassment, as the Quidditch captain steadied him with a hand to the chest, that he quite enjoyed being manhandled by the likes of Oliver Wood.


End file.
